Frank's Gift
This is post 12 of Section IV. To begin at the beginning, go here. Section II begins here. Section III begins here. Section IV begins here.
“Of course they do,” Frank said, placing an understanding hand on Grout’s arm and chuckling inwardly at the instant rigor homophobis this provoked. “I just wanted you to know that I personally read your materials and found them absolutely fascinating.”
While Grout was looking at him suspiciously, several cars drove in unmolested. Frank moved his attack into phase two. Looking earnestly into Grout’s eyes and now stroking his sleeve, Frank continued, “To tell you the truth, you got me really worried.”
With an awkward twitching movement, Grout threw off his admirer’s caressing hand. His eyes darted to the item swathed in a plastic bag under Frank’s other arm. “Good. That’s the first step, like it says right here--” he pointed to a paragraph in one of his pamphlets. “But don’t stop there. You’ve got to get right with God. Because God is love, buddy. The greatest love you’ll ever know. Believe it.”
“Oh I do, Mitchell,” Frank said, halting Grout in the act of turning away. “That’s why I’m worried about you.” He unshrouded the object—a rubber arm with a fist at the end—and extended it toward Grout. “I worry that people like you don’t feel enough of God’s love. Deep down, where you need it, I mean.” Grout stared at the thing in disbelief. “Don’t worry. It’s lubricated.”
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“Of course they do,” Frank said, placing an understanding hand on Grout’s arm and chuckling inwardly at the instant rigor homophobis this provoked. “I just wanted you to know that I personally read your materials and found them absolutely fascinating.”
While Grout was looking at him suspiciously, several cars drove in unmolested. Frank moved his attack into phase two. Looking earnestly into Grout’s eyes and now stroking his sleeve, Frank continued, “To tell you the truth, you got me really worried.”
With an awkward twitching movement, Grout threw off his admirer’s caressing hand. His eyes darted to the item swathed in a plastic bag under Frank’s other arm. “Good. That’s the first step, like it says right here--” he pointed to a paragraph in one of his pamphlets. “But don’t stop there. You’ve got to get right with God. Because God is love, buddy. The greatest love you’ll ever know. Believe it.”
“Oh I do, Mitchell,” Frank said, halting Grout in the act of turning away. “That’s why I’m worried about you.” He unshrouded the object—a rubber arm with a fist at the end—and extended it toward Grout. “I worry that people like you don’t feel enough of God’s love. Deep down, where you need it, I mean.” Grout stared at the thing in disbelief. “Don’t worry. It’s lubricated.”
Continue
posted by Hobbes at 5:49 PM
2 Comments:
I found one of those rubber hands at the Goodwill and got it and then snuck into Lula's bedroom while she was asleep and stuck it in the window beside her, so when she awoke, it really scared her. I liked what you wrote on Indie's site about writing -- it goes for pictures, too.
Thanks, T&I. I once had a boyfriend who was interested in my lingerie catalogs. For a laugh, I signed him up to receive the Frederick's of Hollywood catalogue. Apparently this got him on some mailing lists I wasn't on, because he soon got a catalogue advertizing "The Fist of Adonis."
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